As if's' from the Phan-Chick Press
by The newbie phan
Summary: Do you like Gerik's POTO? Wish they made the movie E/C? Are there some obvious areas that were overlooked? If you agree with any of the above, then read this story! Raoul gets a dose of bashing, but all in good fun, I suppose. ;) Humor, highjinks, and fluff galore in this entertaining fic! E/C, M/P, loose LND, and even Raoul gets a 'happy' ending. Please Review! ;)
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Hello again, fellow Phans! I am SOOOO excited to be up on the site again! Missed you all! Okay, so this is another attempt to write and actually finish a multi-chapter fan-fic. I know my last one was pretty terrible. Probably miles off from being even remotely realistic, and very choppy with terrible grammar, but I promise to try REEEAAALLY hard on this one for you guys. It shouldn't be too incredibly long, but it will have a little more 'umph' than my other attempt at a fan-fic. Sorry, this one's SUPER short... :*( And, when I do Carlotta's POV, I put it in her Spanish accent to make it funnier, so if something doesn't make sense or if she sounds like she's not using proper English, that's just because of the influence that some other stories had on her character (to me). So yeah… Oh, and BTW; if you guys can believe it, I actually got up quite a few other stories, all one-shots, but I hope that you guys check 'em out! It would mean the world to me! Well, enough of my babbling, ON WITH THE SHOW!  
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_**Carlotta's POV:**_

OOOOH, HOW I HATE THAT MEGAN GIRL! I don't care if her mother ees de ballet mistress or not, her daughter is a disgrace to dees company! Why, you say? Well….

_Flash back 20 minutes ago…_

I vas just about to feenish de aria, (IN DE CHORUS I TELL YOU, IN DE CHORUS! Since de stupid phantom gave me de wheeze and coughs, I came late to de performance and they put me in de CHORUS! VAT A DISGRACE!) ven '_R_-_R-RIP_!' De stupid vench stepped on de train of my dress! She tore the entire theeng right off! De whole opera house vas laughing at me so hard, Im sure dat de orphanage down the road could have easily joined in de laughing! And vere dey are, dey have-a notheeng to laugh about! And guess vat! No-abody help me! Not eefen de ballet rat dat started eet in de first place! I svear I heard the Phantom laughing hees death-head right off too!

_Back to present…_

Oooooh, she have no idea how bad she's-ah goin' to pay-ah! *Gasp* And I know just-ah vhere to start… Her social life...

_**Christine's POV:**_

Oh my god! How exciting was that! I felt exhilarated! Carried away! And it was all thanks to my angel… Oh no, my angel… I'M GONNA BE LATE! *Starts running to her dressing room* Oh, I hope he's not too mad…

What I find is totally aside from what I was expecting.

"OH MY GOOD GOD! RAOUL?! HOW DID YOU GET HERE?"

It was my childhood friend, Raoul De Changy! Oh, but how did he find me? How did he even _recognize _me? I _have_ to find out…

"Geez, no 'hellos' or anything, no instead I am questioned on my motives of seeking out my babe."

BABE?! Wait a minute... Who does he think he is?! I just now see him and he thinks I want to immediately run off with him? Okay, I admit, I had little girly fantasies when I was little. I had a bit of a crush on him. But, although he is dashing and neat in every way, it's pretty presumptuous that he thinks he can just drag me into a full-on courtship after I haven't been in his private presence for more that 5 minutes!

"I… Uh, wait, HUH? Wha-…huh?!"

He smudged his index finger all over my lip-glossed mouth, TASTED HIS FINGER, and cut me off with the most asinine remark known to man.

"The Comte always gets what he wants, my dear. Now; Your performance. You were absolutely sublime, my dearest! I can't believe that I am going to be walking around with such a talented artist on my arm…"

GOOD GOD ALMIGHTY! THIS JUST GETS BETTER AND BETTER! HE'S SUCH A FLIPPING PIG! But, he's the patron. If I bad-mouth him right to his face, he'll ditch patronage to the opera-house, and drive me out of a job. I just started, so that cannot happen.

"What?! And last time I checked, you were the _VI_-comte… Unless Phillipe… Did he…?"

Well, that just went out the window…-ish...

"'Ah yes. Quite unfortunate. He got run over by a stage coach…"

"*GASP!*"

"Kidding, doll. Kidding."

Oh my god, Raoul, just give up already.

"Argh, Raoul, get out of my room. I need to think this over. You come back after 14 years, and drag me into a mess that I don't understand. I need some alone time. Bye."

And I took the immense bouquet of flowers, all but chucked them at my love seat, and shooed him out the door before I was even done talking. Hey, I wasn't nice, and neither was he, and it was the most peaceful way I thought to go about kicking him out of my room.

"Brava, brava, bravisima…"

*Sighs dreamily* my angel…

"Angel, I hear you,

Speak, I listen,

Stay by my side,

Guide me-…"

He took a pause, and then I heard a gentle chuckling from behind my mirror. *Gee, SHOCKER* Yeesh, as if it wasn't obvious enough, he made it quite clear that he always hid behind my wall. Time to act surprised…

"Angel, are you here? I hear you behind my mirror maestro, you may now show yourself to me… At last…"

Well, now is the time. And the mirror opens, aaaand- DING DING DING! Time to lay my eyes on the most handsome man upon the entire- a mask? God he's freaking hot! Why would he a wear a mask?

He's wearing the finest clothes in Paris, at least three layers of fabric, yet I can tell that he is quite masculine. I wonder what he'd look like if he had gotten a little _too_ hot… GOODNESS ME! WHAT AM I THINKING! '_Thinking like an untouched little girl with fantasies…' _OH MY GOD. Whoever that was, you can STUFF IT! I don't think like that! '_Oh yeah? Well guess what, I'M YOU…DUN DUN DUUUUNN'_ Oh, nu-uh. Not happening. '_Still…'_

"Angel?"

He's now on the floor outside my mirror laughing so hard that he was almost at the point of slamming his fists on the floor and kicking his feet like a laughing kid on a sugar-high. Way different from the stony aura of mystery I had known for the six years I've been here. WHOA…

"Angel, what of my performance? Did I please you?"

GOD, WHY DO I ALWAYS SOUND LIKE A LOST KID?! This is my Angle of Music, and I sound like I got lost at the grocery store! '_Confidence, Christine, CONFIDENCE!'_

"HAHAHAHAHAAHAHA! Chri-Chris, t-t-tine… HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

*Pause*

"TH-THAT, WAS THE MOST FREAKING AMAZI-HI-HI-HING THING, I HAVE EVER SEEN! HAHAHAHAHAHA! Oh, your singing as well, was truly wondrous, my dear. You have made your angel proud. Well, you made ME proud. Obviously I am no such entity, but a normal man. No, scratch that, Phantom."

Oh my stars! MY ANGEL OF MUSIC IS THE… TH-TH-TH-TH-THE PHANTOM OF THE OPERA?!

"Y-y-y-y-you're… You're, th-th…*Gulp* Ph-ph-ph-phantom?"

"Yes, my dearest girl. Do not be frightened, child. Most of that 'Ghostly Gossip' that you her about me is just a bunch of stories that _my_ corps de ballet made up. I can hardly blame them, though; getting screamed at by a woman with a cane can be quite boring, I'm sure… Oh, I meant no ill-will against Madame Giry, besides; we are friends… Of sorts…"

'_You got that right, mister. But still, how would HE know Madame Giry? Hmmm…"_

"Well… How would _YOU_ know Madame Giry anyways?"

"Ah, my dear girl, no need to bring back bad memories…"

He then started to hug himself as if he was freezing. He probably was, considering that the visible side of his face lost almost all of its pigment in 2 seconds flat. But what 'bad memories could he possibly be talking about?

"What bad memories?"

"Hmmmm… I might tell you if you can come down to my place. It does, after all, get terribly lonely down there; all alone, in the dark, with no-one to console you but your shadow… Or lack thereof, considering that there IS no light to cast a shadow with…"

He gave a nervous laugh, but I was appalled until his clarification… He obviously saw this in my face, for he CLEARLY RESTATED his proposition in a less… Suggestive manor.

"For our _lessons_, girl, for our _lessons_. Look, Christine, I am a friend and fan as well as an… An… Admirer. It would be my genuine pleasure if you would just come down and do our lessons, where I keep the grandest organ in Paris, and maybe you could hang around for a little bit. I just wanted to stay friends with you. I can imagine how upset you could be right now that your father had _not_, in fact, sent you an angel, but I'll try my hardest to be whatever you want me to be. Whether I am to remain in the shadows, still that disembodied voice, or a man, in the flesh, there for you to lean on… I would do-"

The door burst open and Carlotta all but flew into my dressing room, with her heavily-sprayed hair, matted around her face, her last sprits of perfume obviously being far in the past, and her dress balled up in her fists. I hurry up and shove the now bashful Phantom into his secret corridor, and slammed his mirror shut.

"Yes, mademoiselle Carlotta, how could I be of service?"

I gave a welcoming curtsey and kept my head down. I don't need any more trouble. Again, if I had the choice, I would've kicked her out of my room as I did Raoul. But, I needed to remain employed. Thus, the big 'Yes master, I'm yours to command' charade.

"Your eh-stupid-ah Vicomte ees-ah chea-"

_Cheating?_ In my head I was appalled. 1. Because he had just waltzed into my private chambers claiming me to be his girlfriend WITH ANOTHER CHICK IN LINE!; and 2. How DARE she call that _hog_ MINE!

She was cut off with a very small, girly hand over her hot-pink, pouty mouth. Heavily manicured fingers, on that hand, too.

"Well, that was short…"

I straightened out my back, squared my shoulders once more, and grinned to myself. I strode over to the secret mirror-door, getting ready to apologize to Erik and tell him he needn't explain anymore, when Carlotta seemingly got thrown back in my room, _attempting _to scream something at me. It seems as though our prayers had come true! She was now virtually MUTE! Oh how wonderful!

"EGG! EGG! EITFFF EGG!"

"What?"

She started kicking the wall with her bright pink and orange pumps. I don't know anyone in the ballet, do I? OH GOOD GRIEF….

"You mean 'Meg'?"

I was sure she had given herself whiplash she had shaken her head so fast. Appearantly, Raoul figured he was welcome in my room once more, which he was _not_.

"Of course not, my love, I would never-"

_Oh, that's it…_

"YOUR love?! YOURS?! HA! IF YOU THINK FOR ONE SECOND THAT I WOULD JUST RUN OFF WITH YOU WHENEVER YOU GOT BORED WITH ONE OF YOUR 'NIGHT DOLLS', THEN YOU THOUGHT WRONG, YOU IDIOT SWINE!"

There. I vented. And boy did it feel good… Those four sentences were like, ten times as relieving as when Madame Giry finally lets us eat something other than the super tiny bowls of oatmeal in the morning. (Of course, I work extra hard, so then I might get a raise. Then I can spend half of my check on that 'Ultra-supreme luxury style' crate-full of assorted chocolates. Ahhhhh…. Chocolate).

I thought that maybe Carlotta had another mood-swing, but it turns out I was wrong. Raoul was sobbing tears the size of Buquet's bottles of whiskey. And trust me, that's definitely saying something.

"What? It's true, you can't just drag some poor girl into your control, just 'cuz you knew her as a 6-year-old. God, man, get a hold of yourself!"

Nope. Still sobbing. Though it seems that his voice got, like, nasally or something, and went up two octaves than natural for a man. I think…

"I JUST WANTED COVER FROM THE PRESS ALRIGHT?! OBVIOUSLY YOU'RE A LADIES' MAN IF YOU HAVE AN AFFAIR WITH TWO BEAUTIFUL WOMEN, DUH! NO-ONE CAN EVER KNOW THAT I'M ACTUALLY GA-"

Oh my god. What?

His little girly hands shot up to mouth as if he had told all of France that Carlotta had a 'job' instead of the 'natural beauty' thing. (Which still, everyone knows it, it's just obscene to actually say it out loud.)

Everyone in the room gasped. Time froze. This was…*Awkward*….

"Gay?"

"YEAH, ALRIGHT, GAY! GOD, IS IT THAT BIG A DEAL?! YOU KNOW MY SECRET, SO DON'T JUDGE ME! I STILL PATRON THIS OPERA AND UNLESS YOU WANT TO HOLD RESIDENCE IN A DAMP, DARK ALLEY, I SUGGEST YOU ALL KEEP THIS NICE AND QUIET! YOU HEAR?!"

"Whoa, man, just relax. I won't tell anybody. Just don't lay a hand on my best friend ever again, especially if Meg were to somehow find out. It'd break her heart, and she JUST broke up with that Jacques guy. I don't need another tear soaked dress. 'Kay?"

"Fine! Fine! I promise I won' t even look her way again! As long as neither of you breathe a word of this to ANYONE!"

"Fine. Now, out you get. Go on, shoo! And Madame Carlotta, as much as I am enjoying your silence, My heart's set on a raise. If I help you, our leading star, out of this jam, I can eat my chocolate in peace, and maybe we'll have an understanding, hm? Oh, no offense."

She just rolled her eyes and nodded.

"Good."

So I lead her into her into my miniscule half-bath, and told her to wait there on the stool. I had to go talk to 'The Phantom'.

I glided out of my bathroom, made sure that the door wouldn't open, closed the _next_ door, and opened the mirror, only to find my mentor with his back against the floor, his legs resting up the wall, his cape fanned about himself, and twiddling his thumbs to his humming of what sounded like the song 'One Way Or Another'. I just had to laugh. He looked so adorable! He obviously heard me giggling, because he looked my way, jumped up with the speed of a hungry tiger, and held his hands behind his back. His slicked hair was all out of place and he looked so cute!

I found myself wanting to reach up and brush it back into place… He had a bit of a pink color dusting his smoothly shaved face now. That just made him even MORE adorable! GOOD GOD! I think I have a crush…

I eventually stopped snickering, and he gave a bit of a nervous smile. Darn it, he looked cute like that too… WILL THIS EVER STOP?

"So, uh… What should I do about-uh… Her?"

I felt at ease in a nervous way when I was around this man for some reason. I haven't a clue why, but I just did. I found myself with my hands wringing each other behind my back, slowly rocking on my toes, and I kept my head down so he wouldn't see the stupid smile or the immense rouge that invaded my face. Is this what the ballet rats called… Flirting?

"Uh, I don't know… I would take a look, if I weren't all menacing and, well, 'Phantom-y' I suppose. I f you can find out what bound her mouth shut, I could try to find out what would take it off. Even though her lacking a voice would work wonders for my mental ease."

I laughed a little, and replied rather hesitantly;

"As much as I would like your mind to stay at ease, I think it best that I at least try to help her. She might get to the bosses."

"Pfffft. What's she gonna do, write 'em a note?"

"No, because that's _your_ job. Hehehehe…"

"Mmmmm. How right you are, my dear. Hmm, I suppose you should go and tend to… You know.."

"Oh, yes of course."

Oh my god. Pinch me I must be dreaming! Anyways, I walked, rather slowly, to my tiny bathroom , were a squealing signora awaited my eyes and hands. And pliers.

"MMM MMMR YMMM TEKIMMMNNG TMMM?"

'Who were you talking to'… I gotta dodge that one.

"Uh, sorry, can't hear you. Now sit still and keep quiet so I can work on this. I wonder, what did Raoul do to you to lock up your lips?"

"MEEEE UUUIIMMM HEEEE HMMMAAARROOO NELL"

"Yeah whatever…"

I tilted her head around, and then it hit me; CREW HAIR GEL! Two things other than my dad that I hold sacred: 1. Chocolate, and 2. Crew hair gel. I admit it, he may be a swine, idiot brat, but Monsieur Le Vicomte has style. AMn, if I didn't bathe every night, that stuff would keep my hair stiff and in place for DAYS!

"ARRRRMEE YOMMM EMMMEN DOIIINGMMM AANEEETHIMMMM?!"

I tested out the sounds on my mouth. 'Are you even doing… anything…?'

"Uhhh… Didn't I tell you to stay quiet? I need peace!"

"MMMMUT EEE-ER…"

Yeah. 'Whatever' is right. Truth? No. I was just acting like I knew how to examine this, when secretly, all I could think about was the ghost hunk behind my mirror… He must think I am SUCH an idiot…

So, I went to work.

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**A/N: So that's chapter one! Soooooo? How was it? Did I make ANYBODY laugh? Even crack a smile? To my past reviewers/readers/followers/favoriters/silent-peep s/ect., I know on my last multi-update story I was SOOOOO terrible at keeping the story to-date at a reasonable pace, but trust me, this is not going to be very long. Maybe 10 chapters tops? I don't know guys. Okay, so I've been noticing that the 'please review' bit, DOES NOT WORK FOR CRAP anymore. I'm not complaining or anything, but it almost worries me that maybe you guys are hatin' it but don't wanna say anything. So, every chapter I'll try to come up with some random question and if you liked the story, put your answer, and a smiley face. If you totally hated it, of course, answers and frownies (***AN EXPLANATION WOULD BE APPRECIATED AS WELL***), or if you're just all like 'What the flip just happened', Do this: '0.0' It might sound stupid, but I'm just trying to get you guys to speak (Or rather, _type_) your thoughts.. So, QUESTION NUMBER ONE: *drum roll***

** ~ARE YOU GUYS ERIK SHIPPERS OR RAOUL SHIPPERS? ~ **

**Looking forward to answers! ;) Thanks guys!**

**-Your obedient servant, **

**TNP**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Hello again! Just so this story makes sense, it does take place in the original time period; I just added some modern things in to make it more humorous. :D Again, PLEASE review. You silent folks, I felt really terrible when I put my other story on extended hiatus, but I didn't know you were there. I hope you guys are enjoying this so far, but again, I wouldn't know. So I beg you to take heed; reviews and PMs are there to be utilized. ;) So, here is chapter two! :D**

_**Erik's POV:**_

Ahhhh, my musical angel. I saw her tears of joy from my box. She was so beautiful in that dress, too. Though I could see most of the men in that _patron's_ box trying to imagine her in no such garments. I get it, but only I can do that! Well, I didn't really have to, I pretty much lived my life outside that two-way mirror, but I couldn't quite push myself as far as to stalk her. Well, at least not like _that_ way. I felt like punjabbing them all to death! I could seriously picture the next day's newspaper, "Vicomte and crew found dead at the Opera Populaire". I could also image those two circus cows running through all the records, exclaiming how my rage got them more publicity than ever. Well, they already happened about every six days, due to that Buquet swine trying to peep into Christine's room, attempting to steal from my third cellar, or as he calls it, 'The Ghost's Pub Hall'.

I got those bottles from Giovanni god dang it! Those were his best years! And I was waiting until mine and Christine's wedding to open those. In other words; they're pretty much up for the taking. She would never love me. Well, maybe, if I wear my Zorro outfit a lot, but first I must appear as though I am just the friend-who-wants-to-be-there. '_God, man, do you wanna risk being in the friend zone? Tsk-tsk-tsk.' _Yeah, I know, but, what the heck. I'd give it a shot. I mean really, even if we are 'just friends', who can resist the 'sexy voice' I've been saving? Honestly! And once I get her agree to coming down for lessons, I'll insist that I have 'more room to breathe while I demonstrate', when in reality… I'm Batman, no, I get to wear that Pirate shirt I want to flash.

Any girl would fall for _that_. Jack Sparrow got on with all those chicks in the same rum-stained open-front shirt! He got so many freaking' love-bites that he could've made up a story of life sized leeches! So, if a drunken pirate with extreme eye-liner dreads, liquor breath and witch nails can make-due with _that_, I should be able to make a perfect impresario of James Bond! IT'S FOOL PROOF!

As I race down the extra long hallway to Christine's mirror, I feel like breaking into song:

…_I will drive by your house,_

_And if the lights are all down,_

_I may see whose aroooouuuunnnnd,_

_One way, or another, I'm gonna find ya,_

_I'm gonna getcha getcha getcha getcha,_

_One way, or another,_

_I'm gonna win ya,_

_I'm gonna getcha getcha getcha getcha…_

Quite fitting isn't it?

By the end of the song, I was gawking at my faint reflection in the mirror, trying to fix my hair, or wig, rather, to the best of my abilities. Then, that patron from the box of perverts came in. I noticed that he was looking around in distaste at the room. Then he saw how hasty Christine was trying to switch costumes, for she left her looser corset draped over the edge of her futon.

"God," he said.

"That's what Philippe and his friends come in these rooms to see? Good lord, that's nasty."

Well, at least he believed in propriety. Kind of. Because the next thing I knew, he was looking through all her belongings, such as the small pendant necklace that her father gave her, her diary, which he soon began leafing through furiously, interjecting his own side-thoughts into the air ; "Preach it, sister…" or "I wonder…:" and "Good god almighty, that's outrageous!"

Things that I hear the ballet rats screeching in the smaller dorms. He must've been raised by a bunch of those "Pretty Little Liars" chicks. God, he sounded so freaking girly! How in god's name did _he_ get in with a bunch of drunken… Well, men? I remember Christine talking about this kid after our lessons. I also remember how my blood boiled when _another_ guy was sitting here waiting for her. It was that Jacques scoundrel from the stage crew. Buquet's 'Booze Buddy'. I remember how I rammed my shoulder into the wall to spook him when he went to touch her. I made my voice bounce off all the walls and echo in his ears.

I haven't seen him since. Well, actually that's a lie. I saw him hanging around Meg. But she's handled almost every member of the scene changers quite well, so I know she can defend herself.

I was thoroughly shaken from my reverie when Christine was flung into her room by the dozens of fans lined up outside her door. She turned and saw that fop and went absolutely bonkers. Then, he seemed to randomly fit in with his friends again.

BABE?! What in the name of the French language was _that_? If he touches her, he'll be in a court alright! God, man! Even I don't say that! '_At least not to her face, that is…'_ Oh shut up, conscience_. '*Snort* Yeah, okay, don't come cryin' to me when your little chickadee here blows your heart into smithereens.'_ You know, sometimes I wish that I had Pinocchio's little cricket-guy conscience. He didn't seem to fight him too much. Or like, Peter Pan's little fairy girl… She was mute, which is the best conscience voice ever, 'cuz it doesn't having one. She just jingled a lot. And I'd rather feel like Santa is on my roof that that pig—no—_toad_-with-lipstick, Carlotta.

Anyway, I stood there glaring through the mirror at this milk-sop, He-chick, when Christine starts to get angry. I can see it in her eyes. She balls up her fists and her hair moved. That means that she was frowning and gritting her teeth. Her skin on her face moved when she scowled, leading to the hair raised look. She was so cute when she got mad. I remember this one drunk guy screaming that she was horrible in the performance. I was getting my lasso out, when I hear this resounding clap. I look up through the peep-holes in a hallway-painting, and I see my Christine, beet-red in the face, with her dress squished up in her little-girl, hands, and it looked like not even _her_ hair gel could stop her hair from frizzing and standing on end. Of course, only I knew that this was her 'P-Oed face'. I knew what she was thinking though. 'Act innocently confused and you won't get fired.'

"I… Uh, wait, HUH? Wha-… huh?!"

OH MY GOD! THAT FREAKING PERVERT, IDIOT, SWINE-FOP, GIRLY, PROPOSTEROUS HOG! THAT MILKSOP JUST TOUCHED MY CHRISTINE! THEN TASTED HIS FREAKING GIRLY-MAN FINGER! THAT'S IT!

Wait, I just have to see if she will obey me. Yeah, "Mental Note to Christine: 'Member? Angel said NO OTHER GUYS… AVOID IDIOT PATRON…"

Of course she was! HA! IN YOUR STUPID SWINE-HOG FACE, DE CHANGY! HAHAHAHAHAHA! Yesss! Monsieur Le Phantom wins again!

She pretty much kicked him out of her room. Quite unceremoniously, too. An amazing show, my dearest! Now, I must praise her for her little… Performance. And her 'actual' performance.

"Brava, Brava, bravisima…"

Of course she replies with her charming endearments. How adorably Christine. Hehehe…

"Angel I hear you,

Speak,

I listen,

Stay by my side,

Guide me…"

Oh god… Don't-*snort*- think I can-Hehehe-h-hold it… Oh geez, here come the gigs…

"Angel are you here? I hear you behind my mirror, maestro, you may now show yourself to me… At last…"

Eh, why not give the lady what she wants? I think my little slip up made it obvious enough. And here's the explosion:

"HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! Chri-Christine… HAHAHAHAHA"

Gotta catch my- nope wait, still not out of my system...

"Angel?"

"Angel, what of my performance? Did I please you?"

Ahhhh, so eager to please, my little Christine is. Weird, had a little Yoda moment. Heehee…

"TH-THAT, WAS THE MOST FREAKING AMAZI-HI-HI-HING THING, I HAVE EVER SEEN! HAHAHAHAHAHA! Oh, your singing as well, was truly wondrous, my dear. You have made your angel proud. Well, you've made ME proud. Obviously I am no such entity, but a normal man. No, scratch that, Phantom."

Better out than in, I suppose. After all, I _did _wear my fancy-shmancy, ultra snazzy suit and cape. I can't be too horrid looking to be put down, eh? Even wore my special Valentino wig!

Okay, she's flipping out now… OH MY GOD, WHERE'S THE PANIC BUTTON?! AAAAAAHHH! *Continuous 'Hoops+Yoyo' Montage*s Pffffft. Whatevs. Now, for some sense.

Y-y-y-y-you're… You're th-th… *Gulp* Ph-ph-ph-Phantom?"

Ahh, Christine, your ignorance is a blessing and a curse.

"Yes, my dearest girl. Do not be frightened, child. Most of that 'Ghostly Gossip' you hear about me is just a bunch of stories that _my_ corps de ballet made up. I can hardly blame them though; getting screamed at by a woman with a cane can get quite boring, I'm sure… Oh, I meant no ill-will against Madame Giry, besides; we are friends… Of sorts…"

Okay, A; that's true. _MOST_ of those stories are made up. B; I know that stuff is boring, unfortunately, from personal experience. C; I can't say we _aren't_ friends, I mean; she _did_ save my life, for god's sakes.

"Well… How would _YOU _know Madame Giry anyways?"

You know what I said about her ignorance? Her innocent, sheltered mind is even more so. Quite unfortunate, I know.

"Ah, my dear girl, no need to bring back bad memories."

Is it cold in here or did Carlotta just land another date? Who knows…?

"What bad memories?"

Again, sometimes, I wish she could just stop with this whole innocent 20 Questions thing. 'Cuz it's NOT FUN.

"Hmmmm… I might tell you if you can come down to my place. It does, after all, get terribly lonely down there; all alone, in the dark, with no-one to console you but your shadow. Or lack thereof, considering there IS no light to cast a shadow with…"

Oh god. I didn't just say that. Gee, this is a foot-in-mouth moment isn't it? I saw her face and totally went into serious re-but mode. TIME TO GET SAPPY…

"For our _lessons_, girl, for our _lessons_. Look, Christine, I am a friend and fan as well as an… An… Admirer. It would be my genuine pleasure if you would just come down and do our lessons, where I keep the grandest organ in Paris, and maybe you could hang around for a bit. I just wanted to stay friends with you. I can imagine how upset you could be right now that your father had _not_, in fact, sent you an angel, but I will try my best to be whatever you want me to be. Whether I am to stay in the shadows; still that disembodied voice, or a man, in the flesh, there for you to lean on… I would do-"

She pushed me into the hall! Geez, how rude. Like that little Steff kid from Full-House. 'Preach it, sister!'

I did, however, see the bright red flurry that invaded her room. Carlotta. Yeesh, what does the freaking witch want now? Good grief.

So, I sat there waiting for her return. I could barely hear what they were saying through the thick glass. So, I continued sitting, and laying… Even did a few cart-wheels to work off the rush that the little tell-all gave me. I resumed my position on the floor. Only I was sitting like I was riding the wall like a sled. I continued my song from earlier. I began twiddling my thumbs to my humming.

Then, the mirror flew back open. I was caught! No, just Christine. Wait- JUST CHRISTINE? She couldn't see me like this! I jumped up at lightning speed to get to my feet. Oh my good god, that was so embarrassing. I wonder if Don Juan ever got stuck like this. Nah, I didn't write him that stupid.

She was just standing there biting her lip and giggling like the little ballet girl that she was. Thus, the flirtitude ensued.

Carlotta got her mouth locked up? YYYYYESS! My prayers have come true! Yes, I was _that_ desperate for her to be mute, that I confided in a 'higher power' that I don't believe in. (Higher Power than _ME_? Yeah right. HA!) That's sayin' something, there.

So, I gave her my advice, of course with the final chance to allow her singing (and talking, and squealing, and screeching, and tattle talking… It just goes on and on…) to end. Which I would've chosen, but my angel's dear heart couldn't just let her suffer. I even tried to use the 'pity me' factor! Absolutely useless! Geez, man!

So again, I waited for her return. And I eventually fell asleep. Then awoke with a rat on my face. Great. Along with a just _beautiful_ visage, horrid temper, a lust issue, and an extremely imposing figure, now I probably have rabies. _Awesome_. Just fan-freaking-tastic.

**A/N: Okay, so chapter two! How'd you guys like it? I noticed I'm getting some PMs… Great! ;D I really appreciate it, guys, really, I do. ;) I would be delighted if you guys would just drop an opinion in the reviews box, too. So then people can judge if they want to read this when they want to start reading a new fic. I'm one of those chicks, so I'm just going off personal experience:**

**2. (Or you could answer #1) ~DO I HAVE ANY OTHER WRITERS READING? OR STRICTLY READ-ONLY PEEPS…?~ Until next time! :D**

**-Your obedient servant, **

**TNP**


	3. Chapter 3

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**A/N: Okay guys, I am sincerely sorry for my extended absence, but it appears as though my story updates, from this point on will be rather unexpected and random. I am afraid, I will only be able to post when I see a time window with all these NJHS meetings I've been having lately, so it will be troubling to me to leave you with a chapter a week at most, and I apologize for my lack, but the world will not end. Thank you for your patience, and for your reward, I give you, chapter 3!**

**(PS: I'm going to begin placing the translations for Carlotta's mumbo-jumbo in parenthesis, because Christine translating her mumbles seems quite uncharacteristic and cheesy to me now.)**

…

**_Christine's POV:_**

I. Am. Doomed. Truly, I am. For since I haven't a clue what to use other than a blow-torch to get this off, Carlotta seems to have made it a goal to try to act as though she were a five year old.

"MMMMMM! OP AT! MMMMM!..." (Stop this' and 'Stop that', 'Oh, you little toad I'll get you for that!' etcetera...)

GOD! DOES THE WOMAN EVER SHUT UP?! Oh, ha ha, I forgot, she will be stuck like that forever. My mistake. Yeah, there is definitely no way to get this off without her kicking and screaming, so I will have to ask for a "preferred 'drug'"... To knock her out! God, what were _you _thinking?

"Okay, Madame, obviously this is not going to come off easily… Or painlessly, so, I find myself thinking that I may have to knock you out. What do you believe would suffice? What have your doctors used?"

"Hmmmm… Ieeeee eeeee-er en not ow…"

_'Liar, nobody can go through a 'transplant' without freakin' scratching the surgeon's eyes out…'_

"What to do with you… A-hah! Excuse me, I had an idea."

"Eeeeahhh Arrreet…"

"I'm _sorry_, I don't _have_ to be helping you, you know."

"…"

"Yeah, I thought so. Sit tight. "

I totally forgot. I have the hottest genius on earth behind my wall! Duh.

_'Ask him what to do.' _

_'Well no dip, Sherlock.'_

I got to the mirror-door and few seconds later to see my mentor standing right at the returning entrance. No, literally, he was so close to the glass that his breath left little fog marks on the back of the door.

_'My, he sure is intent on being here right when you are, isn't he?'_

"Well, hello there… Uh, I found out what was putting our… _friend_ in her state."

"Well, what is it?"

"Crew hair gel."

"Wha-? Since when did hair gel become the new gag-glue? Is it altered in any way?"

"I know. Well, I happen to use it and it, honestly wouldn't be hard to believe that it _could_ bind your lips shut. And no, not from the looks of it. It seems as though 'the culprit' just dug their hand really deep into the jar and smothered her mouth with it. Any advice?"

"Well, it will be incredibly painful, especially to us since we have to hear her screech, and we have to hold her down. Fake nails and 50 inch heels on your face, doesn't feel great, either. Anything we can put her out with?"

"Nothing that she told me, because she hasn't been put out before."

"That lying little pig…"

"I know right?"

"Hehehe… Yeah… well, should we do this the fast way, or the long way?"

"Uh, I don't know what either of them are, but let's do the short way…"

"Okay, here's what you need to do. Go and get a really thick scarf, some rubbing alcohol, a frying pan, a handkerchief, a strong hairpin, and a cold glass of water. I expect there is already a pair of pliers or something in there, correct?"

"Yes, sir. So, what do I do though?"

"One; don't call me 'sir', because I believe we are past formalities. Two: tie the scarf around her head, as if it were a blind fold. She can't see you when you come up behind her. Three: take the frying pan, and smack her head. It will be painful, but if it works, she won't remember a thing. Four; if by any chance it doesn't work, take the hankie and wet it with the rubbing alcohol. Put it to her nose so she is forced to breathe it in. She will definitely be knocked-out cold by this point. Five, try to fit the pliers between her lips, and I want you to try to jam the hairpin into her mouth enough to run it through her mouth, so maybe the gel will give out. When and if that gets done, hold her in a sitting position, and hold the cold glass to her mouth. It will act as a soother for the pain, and it could possibly numb her mouth enough to the point where she will feel nothing. Got that?"

"Uhhhh, sure. I can call for you if I need help, right?"

"Ahhh, you're a bright girl, Christine, so I doubt you'll need to, but yes, I will aid you when and if needed. Now run along. And remember, be quick about the pan, or else she will remember you trying to smack her brains out, okay?"

"Got it."

So I got down to business. I got the supplies that Angel told me to get, and I persuaded Carlotta to let me put the blindfold on.

"IIIIIIIII!" ('Why?!')

"Because it will help with what I'm going to do, alright? Do you want to speak again?"

'_What I wouldn't give for her to stay silent… *Sigh*'_

"…"

"Alright, then put it on."

And so she did. Uh-oh now comes the hardest part. I stealthily dragged the pan out of the huge bag-like fold in the back of my dress, held it high in both of my shaky hands, and swung as hard as I could. Well, as hard as it would allow her eyes to stay in her head. I gently slapped he face a few times to make sure she was really out, and I went to work.

'_Okay, he said to pinch the pliers shut, so then they'd stay open between her lips; check. Next, the hairpin…'_

Oh good screaming lord in heaven…

I placed the pliers in her mouth, and had a total 'reality check' moment. That swine must've used half of the jar in smashing her mouth shut! It had made a tinted, blue crusty layer in her mouth! OH MY GOD! That was truly disgusting! Lord, now I do feel bad for her! Yeesh, Raoul, get a freaking' grip!

I tried my hardest to poke a hole in the gunk to drag it through, but it was like trying to engrave a name into a tree with a feather! GOOD LORD! There is no helping this. I got to call in the specialist…

"ANGEL! I NEED SOME HELP! SHE'S OUT, DON'T WORRY!"

And in he came. Striding through my bathroom door with some smelling salts in hand, and one of those crooked stick things that the dentists use. Oooooh, that'll be painful. Ouch…

"Okay, let's see what we have here."

He knelt down next to me and began picking away to no avail.

"I feel bad for any sucker who is in _this_ position for _this_ chick. Good lord, he must have a death wish."

I couldn't help but laugh, this guy was a riot the entire way through! Making jokes whenever things got awkward. Did he have them written on his arm or something?

"THIS IS FUTILE! Hold these to her nose and tell her that she needs an actual doctor. We are too limited on tools for this nonsense."

"Agreed. But, is this an 'I won't' or 'I can't' situation? 'Cuz for me, it the former. I would seriously be 100% exultant if she could just stay this quiet forever."

"True that."

And then our chuckling and snickering faded into a peaceful silence. Not the awkward silence where you feel like if you don't say something you're going to get ditched, but the silence that you feel content to just be enjoying each-other's company, you know?

"What would you say if I dumped her in her dressing room and put the blame on that De Changy kid?"

"Can I be your partner in crime?'"

"Hehehe… Then let's make like the bandits that we are and dispose of the evidence, eh?"

"Then let's set the scene of the crime, hehehehe…"

So I took her feet, and he took her arms, and he led me through the ancient catacombs of his underworld of darkness. I was eerie, and smelled horribly of rats, which told me that the rat-catcher was sluffing on the job.

When we finally got to her palace of a dressing-room, I must say, I was impressed. I've never actually seen it, but this room was as big a legend as the Phantom story. Everyone just made a bunch of rumors about it. And to tell the truth, it was even more world-class than the stories. I hated the colors though. Bright pink, light pink, red-violet-, and a red-orange-lavender that really couldn't be identified. Seriously, it looked like a unicorn exploded in here, but the size of it was like a small house. IT WAS TOTALLY NUTS! I don't even know what I would do with all this space, considering my scrimpy amount of furniture, my dad's violin, and my HUGE bouquet of black-ribbon-tied roses that I collected from my ghostly 'admirer'.

However, back to the point; we didn't have too much time to gawk at her enormous yet horribly schemed room. We were scared she would wake up and make more mummy noises.

We were trying to hold in our little giggles like naughty school-children putting tacks on the teacher's chair. We soon fell back into that oddly comforting silence.

"Do want to celebrate your debut in your room, or shall I introduce you to my home? I have some very grand Champaign down thee you know…"

He playfully elbowed me and snickered a bit.

"Why, monsieur Phantom! I certainly couldn't, I'm barely 20!"

I looked at him with a mischievous smirk on my face.

"Yes, but that is for straight alcohol. If I must, I will delude it for the little girl…"

"Hey now, I'm not a little girl. And to prove it, I'll take it straight! Ha-ha! In your… Oh, wait… Crap."

And he just started howling with laughter. I turned really red (yet _again_) and eventually started laughing again. He eventually got us down to a beautiful black stallion he called 'Cesar'. He really was one of the most handsome horses I'd ever seen. Immaculately groomed, kept in trim shape, and his legs kept well-toned. If this horse had been in a race, he could carry Piangi on his back with weights on his ankles and still made record time and won. This horse had to be imaginary!

"Hop on, I'll help you up."

"I get to ride him? He's so pretty… Wow, how do you keep him so…. So…"

"Masculine, perfected, in shape, fantasized into reality, whatever you want to call it, I trained him since he was at his early years of being a Philly, so he was wondrously toned and tamed since a young age. I have a lot of free time, you know. It may seem that all I do is terrorize this opera house, but 1. It's for the best, 2. It's not true that it's my everyday occupation, and 3. I have a life away from your mirror, box five and the rafters. And as I've said, it is incredibly lonely down here. So, he's been my only friend since _I_ was young."

"Oh. Wow. Okay, then. I suppose that is good, though, you guys must have a great bond, right?"

"Oh yes, definitely. It just hurts that the only one that cares about me is a horse."

Cesar seemed to get a little offended, because he near bucked him in the gut like, _'What's that supposed to mean?!'_

But he just walked up to him and whispered a bunch of things I couldn't hear. The cool part was, Cesar immediately calmed down and went back to his quiet, obedient self.

"How did you… H-How did-"

"Again, we are so close it's like we're brothers. Sometimes it seems like he _does_ speak!"

So we laughed a little more, and I had a marvelous time getting on top of Cesar… Reason being;

"Okay, put your right foot on the stirrup… Okay good. Now-kinda -turn yourself so that you're facing me…No, here…"

He took my hand and held onto my waist to balance me, and I had to grab his shoulders for dear life in fear that I'd fall off of this steed. I soon found that I was correct in my observations earlier… THIS GUY WAS FREAKIN' ROCK HARD! Again, my 'little voice' made an appearance…

'_HOT… HOT….HOT….'_

_'Oh shut it, you…'_

I had to pull myself back into reality though, now that he backed away a little bit.

"Now hop up a little ways, and you'll fall right onto the saddle… That's it, my dear. Good work."

And so here I was, burning to a crisp under my face.

He took the ropes, and led us down a very twisted, uneven path.

Soon enough we were on the edge of a black lake, afloat it was an equally dark little boat.

'_Soooooo… He's one of those dark, sensitive one's eh? Hmm… I wonder what his name is…'_

"Angel?"

"I don't see the purpose in calling me that any more, but yes?"

"Well, that's what I was going to ask… What else should I call you? What is my mentor's name, eh?"

"Uh… I-It's Erik… Erik. Just, Erik."

"Well…. Okay, 'Just Erik'."

So I giggled, and he chuckled a little, and for a third time, we fell into that comfortable silence.

We were, I'd imagine, half way through the lake, as I could see a faint glow from around the corner of a small cave.

I just stared in awe, it was so beautiful. So beautifully mysterious and serene…

I was pulled from my wonderstruck phase when we had grounded. 'Erik' was already standing on the shore holding his hand out to me. I shook my head, trying to blow away the mental fog that had clouded my mind and meekly smiled at him. I had caught but a glimpse of what could've been a smile, even though it was so mall, he could've just twitched.

I gave him my hand and he gently heaved me up from the small, black vessel. He then set me down onto the gray sands and told me to make myself at home in the front room, which was an open hole in the wall. However, there were many tarps and curtains hanging around.

Well since we're are as far underground as one could get in the opera house, there probably wouldn't be any light, so what's the purpose of windows? I expected them to be doors. There was one particular curtain that spiked my interest, though. Just as I was about to lift the curtain, I remembered that he was in fact the Phantom. And my angel.

'_Christine, don't pry into his stuff. 1. It's not nice anyway, 2. You're not suspicious of him, so why would you snoop around? And 3. You, unlike Carlotta, have a voice and brain, so use it. Just ask him about himself.'_

_'Alright conscience, for once, you are right. Okay, I won't.'_

_'Good girl.'_

_'Hey, NOT a little girl.'_

_'Pffft, whatever.'_

_'Shut up…'_

Soon enough, Erik was back from the boat with a bottle of, what I can only imagine, the best Champagne EVER…

"Whoa…that's like, one of the best bottles ever! Where did you get it?"

"An old friend, why?"

"So then I might steal it and know whose champagne will be missing…"

"Stealing is a sin, Christine, you know that…"

"Oh, okay, _Angel_…."

"Touché…"

And thus, ensued one of the best nights I've ever had. Champagne, lot's of what I believe Americans call, 'Ragtime' (which was really quite entertaining and I applaud those who can play it), laughter, and a grand tour of 'Casa de La Erik'. (Also filled with running into walls, laughing ourselves half into asthma attacks, and making funny echo noises into the lake.)

And then, I believe I passed out, because I woke up in a bed that looked like a Phoenix. Really, it was quite a pretty room. But I don't recall Erik showing me this room… Although, again, we were so freaking drunk that I lost all memory of why we were even walking around.

Oh god, I hope I didn't say anything stupid…

_'Well don't go and ask him, or else you __**will**__ say something stupid, stupid.'_

_'Hey, 'member the whole "You are me" bit? I suggest you shut up. 'Cuz you just called yourself stupid'_

_'Technicalities… Hmph…' _

So I cut off my mental war, and ventured out of the room.

"Okay, so I remember a boat and a lake…and on that lake, there was a man… Named Erik…"

….

**A/N: HAHA! Bit of a cliffy for you guys, eh? So, Erik and Christine are better acquainted, and I toned it down, because I got a review saying that it was too over the top. So I hope that this chapter was better, and I thank 'NotAGhost3' and 'PhantomSith', as you two are my only reviewers. Sorry I back tracked on my last one, my creative juices were lacking that day. :( I hope this was better! I hope there are more reviewers, as I had to work on this one longer and harder than the other ones. **

**Question 3: **WHICH RENDITIONS OF ERIK, RAOUL, OR CHRISTINE IS/ARE YOUR FAVORITE(S)? ****

**See you next time, guys. ;D**

**-your obedient servant, **

**TNP**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Again; I apologize for my immense absence. I made it a goal for myself to post a Halloween update, but alas, I got a surprise invite to a Halloween party. SO without EVEN FURTHER ado, I bestow upon you, your reward for your patience. This is where some of the fluffy/romance/drama stuff comes in. So, ENJOY, DU STAEMS! :D**

_**Erik's POV:**_

Best… Night… EVAH! 'Kay, so get this; you know how I told you my awesome plan for Christine to fall for me? Well, I guess it went really well, 'cuz we got TOTALLY BOMBED! Oh, my god. I had the time of my life. I was all like, "HERES YER ROOM, ANGE…" and I took her by the hand, and she totally cracked.

"Oh my god, Erik, it's BEAUTIFUL! AND FUZZY!"

And she fell onto her queen sized bed, rolled over a bunch of times so she practically mummified herself in the big, fuzzy comforter, and was hopping the rest of the way through the room. When she fell, I swear, she was so adorable, I could have DIED.

"Ewik, could you pwease hewp me?"

She was speaking in a little kid voice giving me the 'Pity Me' look, and I was just standing there laughing.

"You okay there, lass?"

My Scottish accent was really showing through now that I'm WAY past sober. So I helped her out of her bed-sheets, and continued on around our romp around the house. Or _cavern_, rather.

Eventually I started playing the piano and she started dancing and just going absolutely nuts. We could have dumped all the champagne we drank into a tub the size of the lake, and swam in it. Yeah, did I mention that we… Kinda ran out of champagne? Then we lost about half a bottle of red wine after that… then we drank about four sips of water to keep from basically drowning our insides in alcohol, but I had forgotten she was young, and it was her first time drinking. I went completely insane my first time.

So, she passed out. I don't know why, but I insisted to myself on bringing her to the only room I hadn't shown her. Mine. Again, I was drunk, so I pretty much had NO FREAKING IDEA what I was doing. So, I just sat there, brushing her eyebrow, to my humming the song I had been inspired by the friendship I had created. I decided to call it, "Music of the Night". And I just continued watching her sleep. I whispered the final line to her sleeping ear.

"You alone can make my song take flight…

Help me make the music of the night…."

I pulled the rope to close the canopy –curtain, slowly walked out the door, and held out the final note.

I fell asleep to my own melody a small while after that.

….

I woke to the sound of my elbow hitting a key on my organ. God, I hope that doesn't become intentional in the future. You don't want to get up in the morning, but NOOOO. Your instruments turn against you, and start your day with a heart attack. Whoever would make a device to do that is surely out of their league in brandy.

So I decided I was bored. And lonely. I suppose that I was taking advantage of Christine being here, because I couldn't stand being alone at the moment. I started to spin a lullaby out of the sultry notes of my music. At first I played softly; almost as if to slowly clear the fog of sleep and alcohol from her mind. Then I gradually got louder until it was at a high-medium sound level. I just played like that for about five minutes, and I knew that my song was clearing and refreshing her mind (or as much as the Champagne would allow for the moment).

And soon enough, she was out of the room, reminding herself what had ensued.

I slowly brought the song to a closing, and swiveled on my bench and greeted her.

"Well, morning sunshine. Did you sleep well?"

Then I started laughing, and then she blushed and found a sudden interest in her stocking-clad feet. I got up and moved on from my little jest.

"Would you like some breakfast? We have to eat light though. Correct me if I'm wrong, but you told me that last night was your first time drinking, no?"

"Well, yes. Yes it was."

"Okay, then I'm going to share a little advice with you about getting bombed like that. If you're up really late, and you blow through a bottle and a half of liquor like we did, then it's still not fully out of your system. You might vomit; especially your first time. Yes, I do know that from personal experience, but I promise that hasn't happened since I was just a little older than you are now. "

"Oh… Okay, then…"

"Yeah, it gets nasty…"

We fell into a bit of a silence soon after our little exchange. Wait, breakfast, right…

"So! Uh, breakfast then? We'll eat light, but I just don't want you to get too sick, or malnourished. You know ballet and all, right?"

"Yeah, I'll help you if you want."

"It's up to you, but I'd prefer you'd sit down and relax."

"Can I just make a quick pot of tea with you?"

"If you insist…"

I held my hand in the direction the kitchen was and she followed.

Hmm, 'Cooking with Christine Daae and Erik Mulheim'. Previously on the show, we learned a lesson on how delicious liquor can be… Today we are making biscuits and tea.' Ha ha…

"How do you like it, dark or green?"

"Um, I'll take whatever you're having, darling."

"Are you sure? I like my tea very strong…"

"Of course, dear."

"Okay."

As I was putting the dough into the oven, Christine was leaning over to get the tea herbs out of the cupboard and we brushed sides. OH MY GOD! SHE DIDN'T TURN TO STONE!

I was totally blushing under my mask. Unfortunately I had my deformity on the other side of my face, so mask couldn't cover it.

"Oh, sorry."

As she looked over her shoulder and smiled slyly.

She SOOO meant to do that…

Oh god, if she did, then I'm being too obvious. Good lord, what to do, what to do… SOMEBODY HELP ME, PLEASE! Ha, when has THAT line ever helped me? Yeesh, I need to get some new material.

….

So we, or rather, she, ate a peaceful breakfast. I just drank a nice mug of tea, considering that the point of my mask stabs my jaw, and the tip of the upper half moves, readjusts itself right off my face, and falls to the floor, as will my heart if she sees what I really am.

After about 15 or 20 minutes, she declared herself done. I was glad, because then I wouldn't have to sit there staring at her confused face. I could tell she was curious as to why I didn't eat with her, but I saw the look on her face signaling that it would be rude to question about it.

_Smart girl. _

I didn't want to go over the 'the story' quite yet. After all, she can't throw her trust at a man she has only known for a technical day. Well, actually, she's known me for about eight years. But, she knew her _angel_. Not her secret admirer/stalker/opera ghost/psycho. *Yew…* I do NOT like _that_ status, at all.

As she drifted through the house a little more, I casually checked my pocket watch.

_7:30._

Well, rehearsals started after her ballet practice, and ballet started at around nine-ish. I can still try to win her over in an hour and a half, can't I? I don't see why not, so, time for this guy to get a move on.

"Christine?"

"Yes, Erik?"

"I was just wondering, after you settle down for a little bit, I thought maybe we could do a quick lesson to warm up for your rehearsals, and then I could take you along the Seine. Does that sound okay to you, dear?"

"Why, of course, angel! That sounds marvelous. I'll go get read-"

"Ah-ah, after you settle, dearest, after you settle. You wouldn't want to make this _poor old man_ break his back trying to mop up your breakfast, would you?"

"Oh, you. You're not old. Why, you look barely out of your late twenties. Uh, how old are you, _really_?"

"You really want to know? You REALLY want to know?"

"Well, yeah. YES…"

"Alright, come here. C'mon, I won't bite…"

I made a bite motion at her and she giggled and blushed horribly. Aren't _I_ just the guy-fox today?

She leaned in close, ready to hear my secret, but I couldn't help but get excited when she did that and didn't expect me to rip her ear off. So, I leaned in, somehow got over my personal excitement, and whispered,

"You'll find out later…"

"AWWW, NO FAIR!"

She decided to give chase for the confidential information.

"YOU'LL NEVER TAKE ME ALIVE!"

So the next hour ensued, along with playful shouting, airborne pillows, laughter, and barricades.

We finally gave up, for we had lost most of the pillows, our barricades were in shambles and we were laughing and shouting so much, that we had mucus built up all the way down our throats. We fell onto the huge couch a little bit later, our hands resting on the others'. WHOA….

"Well…*pant pant* singing is obviously out of the question now….*pant pant* Agreed?"

"*pant* Agreed…. I'll go get ready for our walk *pant* if you want."

"Okay, dear. Sounds good. I'll do the same."

I went to my room, got out of my mussed suit, and decided to put operation 'Pirate' into action. I slipped on my nice black pants and shoes, and re-slicked my hair. When I got done with my toilette, Christine was standing right at the door waiting. Literally, she must've had her nose smashed to the wood while I was in there. She looked absolutely gorgeous, as always, only she had put on so kind of perfume that drove me totally nuts… The good way, hehehe….

"You think you're ready?" I jested.

She just laughed, blushed and nodded like her cute little self, and took my arm. Why did she take my arm? Hmm... Whatever. I liked it, so no harm done.

I led her onward, over the lake on the boat, and out the Rue Scribe entrance, through an overgrown alley (which I found strangely pretty), and all the way down to the Seine.

We just talked, and talked… And talked, then, (Oh my god! Shocker!) AND TALKED SOME MORE. But, we were enjoying ourselves, and I liked the way this was going…

"So I've been thinking…" she says.

"You don't seem to be at all like the evil, demented Phantom I grew up listening about. In fact, you appear to be the perfect gentleman. Funny, smart, talented, and caring. I was wondering if maybe, If y-you wanted to, uh…. Maybe we could, Oh I don't know… start da-"

"Dating?"

Whoa, wait supposed to happen this fast? Oh my god… I wanted this to happen all along, but now, I am mortified out of my little pirate boots.

"D-d-d-d-ating? Uh, well, d-do you… want to? To date me? You know I can't go out or anything, and like I said, most of the rumors… Not the creepy death ones but the unfortunate scary ones… You might think I am handsome, but it is unfortunately, false. I am as horridly ugly as they say, Christine, I… I'm sorry, but do you really want a boyfriend that looks like half his head got lit on fire?"

"Well, I'm sure it's not _that_ bad, here-"

"NO! Christine, you mustn't! It _is_ as bad as they say. I didn't tell you earlier because I didn't want you to be scared off by my accursed ugliness… Christine, even my own MOTHER made me wear a mask for god's sakes!"

"Erik, I have truly grown to love you, and nothing is going to change that. Okay? After all, who have I got to run to anyway?"

"True… But still, I don't want you having to stay here with someone you disgust just because you have nowhere to go or even any idea on how to get out of my labyrinth without my help. Christine, I don't think I could live through it…"

I put my masked face into my hands and got dangerously close to bawling into my palms. This was supposed to be the perfect day! And I had to bring up my face?! WHY WOULD I EVEN DO THAT TO MYSELF! GOD, I'm SUCH A BLOODY FREAKING IDIOT!

"Erik…"

I look up with teary eyes and a soul of sadness in my voice.

"Y-yes, my Christine?"

She took my face in her hands, and kissed me slowly. OH, MY GOD. Disney moment #28: DREAMS DO COME TRUE!

But I could feel her gently tugging at my mask. Well, good feeling's gone.

"Chris-"

"Don't move, please."

Well, I was too far into the 'Bliss-abyss' to care anymore. (MY MIND: LET'S SUCK FACE! Me: Huh?)

So, she eventually got my mask off, against my will, and I felt her pull away slowly. I self-consciously lower my face so then I look at the grassy floor. This got to be too much emotional stress to bear, so, I let the tears roll. After a small while, I felt her finger under my chin.

"I'm sorry. Christine, I'm so sorry, I should've stopped you. Christine, I apologize, please forgive me…"

"Erik, Erik please look at me."

I lift my heavy head, and await her disgust. I almost couldn't bring myself to do it, nut, I had to manage.

"I admit, it was kind of a shock, but it isn't anything I couldn't get used to if I saw it a lot. I promise. Even so, it still isn't that horrible. Erik? Erik please, is this okay for you?"

I develop a sense of both weary despair and a conflicting relief. Nevertheless, I nod my head in assent.

"Are you sure, ange?"

Admit it, Erik. Just do it. NIKE POWER!

"If it means that you could love me for who I am, and never fear me, I'd be the happiest man on earth. Christine, I love you."

"Oh, Erik…"

And so we just sat there, enjoying each other. I felt as though I was dreaming! I was making out with the only woman I'd ever want, and she's not scared of me! No, she wasn't cowering away; in fact, she was basically squishing me the entire time. But anyways, we decided to officially be a courting couple. Of course, secretly, that is. And I told her about my life and where I've been, and she was in tears almost the whole time. This was oddly… I don't know… Flattering? As I've said, I have never felt compassion from anyone, so this is a big step for me. So in her fit of sorrow for me, she started kissing me all over my deformed face.

I had it made alright. Livin' the dream. I got the hottest chick in the world in my arms, and she actually loves me, and a boat load of compassion. By the very end of our little 'kiss-and-tell', she told me a bunch of just random thoughts, and things about her father, and again, more random thoughts. But we didn't care what came out of our mouths anymore, because we were so engrossed in each other. We started looking at clouds and naming their shapes.

Then we were just saying things that we liked about each other. She was rattling off list after list of likable aspects of me, which is inhuman to me, considering that I am the eighth wonder of the world because of my face, I have the public reputation of a giant bulldog with rabies, I have completely secluded myself from this society, and I am just a plain old emo-creeper. But, she did say something that was the most pleasing to hear...

"You know, I really love your shirt. It's very open… Hmhmhm…"

So we just kissed and giggled at each other some more.

We ended up having to leave in a rush, due to the pouring rain. But we took advantage of this weather to act as the two love-sick thespians that we were. Ducking into dark corners and stealing a kiss from each other. I just feel bad, because when and if she wants to go back to the opera, like, above my level, she will look like Jessica Simpson gone awry.

If started raining even harder and my shirt was so saturated with rain water that I ended up just taking it off all together.

"Now, that's more like it…" said my angel, as she traced magical letters on my chest.

Oh yes it is….

CHECK PLEASE!

**A/N: Okay, so that is chapter 4! How did I do? I tried to fit a little bit of everything into this chapter to make it interesting. Was it? What happens next? I know! But I can't tell you guys until next update, so, (:-(, sorry. You'll just have to stay tuned! ;D QUESTION 4: WHAT DID YOU GUYS DO FOR HALLOWEEN? Happy day after Halloween you guys! And if anyone was wondering, I was Erik for Halloween. Hey, I had to guys. LOLZ! Until next time! ;)**

**-Your obedient servant, **

**TNP**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Hey guys, sorry I am late. I was totally swamped with homework and couldn't even start writing the chapter until yesterday, but it came out sloppy, so decided that today is for editing. Aside from that, I cordially thank you all for your wonderful reviews; they truly make my day! ;) As for a guest, "PhantasmalZero", I am afraid I can't put my finger on identity… Sorry to spoil your fun, but can you let me in on the secret? ;D? So without even further ado, I present to you, CHAPTER FIVE! :D (PS: I only own the story line and dialogue; All else goes to ALW, Susan Kay, and Leroux above all, for without him, the story never would have been around. THANK GOD FOR THE MAN! LOLZ!)**

_**Christine's POV:**_

Oh my gosh! I finally did it! I asked him out and he accepted! *EEEEEEK!* I am so happy, that there is absolutely NOTHING that can bring me down!

Meg runs up to me, red in the face, past the point of seething. Oh boy, what did I do now?

"HOW COULD YOU!?"

"Meg, don't get your tutu in a bunch. What? How could I what?"

I love her to bits, but, I am _really_ looking forward to being happy-love-struck chick again, so I don't have the time for anger.

"I go to ask Raoul to dinner tonight, and do you know what her said? 'Never. Christine.' HOW COULD YOU STEAL HIM FROM ME?! I THOUGHT WE WERE FRIENDS!"

Oooohhh… Okay. _That_ thing… Shouldn't be too hard.

"Come with me, Meg, and I will tell you."

"NO! TELL ME NOW OR-"

"Meg, I can't tell you in front of all these people. And besides, everyone is already staring at you like you're a madwoman anyways, now come on."

She finally relented, and followed me down the little staircase to the small chapel in the first cellar. I checked to make sure that nobody was going to listen in on us before closing the heavy oak door.

Meg stands there with her back turned to me, her hands on her size 2 waist, tapping her little dancer's foot. And although that sounds like normal anger, a pissed-off ballerina IS A DRAG THROUGH HELL.

"So, Christine, what's your game here. And you better be quick about it, because quite frankly, I don't have the time for excuses."

"Fine. _Fine_. I'll be fast. Okay, so you know how friends will protect each-other no matter what?"

"Sure, what of it?" she asked skeptically.

"Well, we are best friends, so I abided by that rule whenever the time comes for it."

"Oh, so now we're friends again. Yeah, sure, right."

"Just let me finish will you?"

Silence.

"Okay. SO last night, after the gala, I found him in my dressing room. Being his childhood friend, I welcomed him and asked how he was. He didn't even answer my questions. Just waited until I was done talking, and basically said, 'Okay, now that you've shut up, I want to take my songstress girlfriend to dinner. Let's go.' HE WAS SUCH A BOAR! I couldn't believe he would say that straight to my face! He has the peer-consideration of an infant and the common decency of a pissed-off ape! So I all but kicked his sorry hide out my door, and… Thought about stuff. Like how our performances were, yours and mine, I mean..."

I couldn't tell her about Erik. He'd be furious, she would be appalled, and I would be stuck in a corner fighting for his custody in court. Yeah, not a pretty picture, therefore, I refused to photograph it.

"Then I see Carlotta storm through my dressing room, screeching that he was cheating on me with you, which; 1. We were never dating, but he seemingly told everyone about 'us' beforehand, and 2. If he was with you, and went after me while you were already on his arm, that means that he was untrustworthy, and I didn't want another Jacques incident, so I told him that if he approached you ever again and I hear about it, he'd have hell to pay. So you see, it wasn't about me, I was trying to protect my best friend. I'm sorry, I didn't even consider the shock it was bound to invoke, but I'm telling you, he can't be trusted. He told me he only wanted publicity. That's why he came after us."

More silence. She then turned around, seemingly relaxed, but depressed. Her shoulders slumped, she hung her head, and I could tell that I would have to apologize to the laundry department for the mascara that would be indefinitely smeared all over my sleeve. I'm telling you, THAT STUFF NEVER GOES AWAY.

She then burst into tears and ran into my arms like the dramatic cherub that she was. I say cherub because she is, after all, almost five years my junior, and I'm 20. Her 16th birthday is in a month.

"I'M SORRY I GOT MAD AT YOU! I SHOULD'VE KNOWN THAT YOU WOULDN'T DO THAT TO ME, CHRISTINE, I'M SO SORYYYYYYY!"

"It's okay, Meg, I forgive you, just let it all out and then maybe we can go find Raoul and get back at him for what he did… It's okay, just let it out, sis…"

I continued cooing comforts to her for about an hour. WOW! Her quickest so session yet! That's goin' in the book.

She soon wiped all the tear remnants away, and gained a renewed determination to give him a piece of her mind.

We soon devised a plan to torment Raoul socially. I would sneak into his box, and put a new kind of novelty balloon that Meg saw in a prank shop. What did she call it? A whoopee-cushion? I don't know, but whatever it is, is supposed to make a loud noise, of which ladies such as I would see as obscene to speak of.

We also decided to give him what he wants. Publicity. Loads and loads of publicity. We intended on doing this by hot-gluing a pair of unspeakably-shameless undergarments to the hem of his pants, so as everyone notices. And for the final threshold of public torment, we schemed up the idea that instead of him slicking his hair, we would have him grease it instead, by him unknowingly putting last night's table grease into his hair.

And the best part is that when he puts up his hair in that girly pony-tail, the undermost layers of hair will be hacked off. But, he will realize that he can't wear his hair any other way because we left the ends of the rest of his hair scraggly, un-fixedly matted, and with a ghastly case of split ends, he will be forced to wear it as is.

After our scheme-fest, I pondered the idea in general. Who knew Meg could be such a diabolical genius?

…

_**Then night of the mission:**_

Tonight's the night. The night of the ambush. ERIK! Dear god, I told him I would meet him in the lair. Aw, crap.

I decide to go and ask him if he wants to join me and Meg in our little attack. I know he'd enjoy it, for he had thoroughly expressed his…feelings towards the foppish-elephant…

"I DESPISE THE VERY ESCANCE OF THAT INCOMPARABLY DUMB BLONDE! I CAN'T BELIEVE THAT HE WOULD DISGRACE MY OPERA HOUSE BY EVEN AGREEING TO THOSE TWO EQUALLY STUPID BAFOONS TO COME HERE! HOW DARE HE SHOW HIS FACE IN MY THEATER WHILE HE KNOWS THE PHANTOM OF THE OPERA HOLDS HIM IN THE LOWEST OF REGERDS! HE SHOULD BE RUNNING AND HIDING FROM MY VERY NOTES!"

Yep, as they say, 'that's what she said'. Or, he, in this case.

I begin my short travel down the long winding corridors, until I get to Cesar's stable, which was really just a lone stall, to be frank. Erik said that he would always keep Cesar here, and although it was a short distance away from the house on the lake, it was the most confusing, but that Cesar could carry me there with ease.

"Cesar, psssst, Cesar…over here."

I swear that horse was half human. He could understand language better than an English teacher. But thankfully, had the temperament of a puppy. Really, this horse is a saint.

He seemed happy to see me, for he responded with a soft whinny and a nod of his head. Cesar was one of those animals that always seemed to be smiling at something, which is what made him so easy to befriend, plus he was as loyal as a hound to his hunter.

"Do you know where Erik is, Cesar?"

He made two giant nodding motions.

"Can you take me there?"

Again, he nodded his assent. I went to unlock his pen, but by the time I took two steps towards it, he had already opened it using his huge teeth, which were a brighter shade of white than any human teeth, mind you. Erik does take care of his horse, I'll tell you that. And he must've trained him to experiment, because I swear to god, he opened up a hook-and-latch lock faster than I can get over the shock to be able to see it clearly.

And, he was as much a chivalrous gentleman as Erik was. He bowed his head, and got into a strange crouching position, so as to make it easier for me to mount.

"Why thank you, monsieur." I giggled, and he whinnied his welcome.

He took it at a pace in which it was a smooth and calm ride, but we still made speedy progress throughout the tunnels. God, without Erik and Cesar, what would I do?

We got down to the lake and I kindly thanked my escort with an apple, which he gladly accepted. I got into the gondola, and immediately cursed myself for taking up dancing instead of scene-changer. I suppose that one couldn't pole one's self in a hand stand, so I had to suck it up and use what barely existent upper body strength I had to push myself off and row the seemingly endless 12 feet across the black lake.

I know, I'm a ninny, but don't judge me, or I'll come over there, man.

I finally got over to the front room, only to find Erik gone from the room. I hear his laughter though. It's not his usual manly-hearty laugh, or his nutzo Phantom laugh, but more like a soft giggling. A giddy chuckle. What the heck is he doing in there?

I see a rustling behind a curtain, and a humming noise. Gee, if that's not some coincidental Wizard of Oz moment, I don't know what was.

I go to pull open the curtain, and what do I see? ERIK IS PUTTING THE VACUUM TO HIS NECK?!

"Erik, what in the bloody name of god are you doing?"

Obviously, I am stunned. And so is he.

"Well?"

"Uh, nothing, darling. You didn't warn me of your visiting!"

"Oh, right. I just came to see if you wanted to wreak some havoc on Monsieur Fop. Meg is coming too, but she's just keeping watch. I'm the commando here. Want to help publically humiliate him with me?"

As strange as that might have sounded, when Meg and Erik and I fantasize about Raoul's downfall through embarrassment, we are as dead serious as mourners at a funeral.

"Well, sure, as long as you can promise me Meg will not look in and find me."

"Hmmm… I don't see reason why she would, so yeah, you'll be fine. We plan to start the raid in about fifteen minutes, so in order to be there in time and not be lonely, I was wondering if you could escort me to the crime scene?"

"My dear, it would be my pleasure."

I took his arm and he was as good a gentleman as his horse, if not better. Yeah, that sounds funny, but when you know Cesar as I do, you'd know he is a prince trapped in a stallion's body.

After going over the main points of the plan with him, we entered His room through the wall. And I must admit it was fun, pretending to be the opera ghost; Walking through walls and such.

I told Erik to stay put, and I walked out the door, only to find Meg standing there waiting, giggling like the giddy thing that she was.

"Whoa, how did you get here?"

"Uh, I got here early. Do you have the stuff?"

"Yeah, I got the stuff."

"'Kay, gimme the stuff so we can get down to business. Oh, and, if someone, god forbid, comes and we are still here, just hide, don't give a signal, just hide. It will raise suspicion if they hear a whisper or something."

"Okay."

Alright, I don't know about you, but that sounded like it could've taken place in a thug-infested alleyway. But, never mind that, time for our vengeance.

I crept back into the room. Why He has a room in the opera house, is completely beyond me. Maybe he got so bombed that the managers loaned him a room or something, I don't know.

"PSSSST… Erik, I got the stuff."

"You got the stuff?"

"Yeah I got the stuff…"

"Okay, then let's get down 'n dirty."

We opened up the laundry bag of 'the stuff' and got to work.

I got the scissors and thankfully, fop-o was on his belly in a deep sleep. Yes, this plan might work just yet.

Once there was almost nothing left to do, Erik found the… 'Dirty laundry', so to speak.

"Maybe you're not the angel I thought you were…" he said with a sly smile, the garments hanging from his gloved finger.

"Tell me, why in the world would my darling, innocent Christine have these obscene undergarments, hmm?"

"Oh, you know, in case I get lucky."

"With, whom, may I ask?" he questioned with a critical eye.

"Oh, nobody in particular... He has blonde sable hair, and golden cat-eyes, a mysterious swishy cape, and the darn most beautiful face a girl could lay eyes on."

"Mmmmm… Sounds like an invitation, eh?"

"Take it as you want, but don't forget Monsieur, but don't push your luck too far, or you'll never know if I'm the devil-woman you take me to be…"

I walked my fingers up his clad chest teasingly, and I was rewarded with a purr from his suddenly delectable lips.

"Now, we have to finish the job before we can… Mess around. Business before pleasure, you know."

I immediately pulled away at my saying this, as to purposely disappoint him, yet keep him waiting for later.

"Ugh, _fiiiiine_…"

So we finished the job, and I alerted Meg of our devious success. She was so diabolically giddy at the thought of his face in the morning, that she raced off straight away to her room, as if she' went to bed faster, the sooner she can wake up to morning and a screeching warthog'.

I was so proud.

She bid me a rushed good night, and sprinted off to her room. This left me and Erik.

"So, now that we finished the job, how about we crack open another bottle of champagne to… Celebrate?

"But of course, dearest."

We went back to the lair, had our second 'bombing', and fell asleep in each other's arms on his overstuffed sofa. This position was the result of some champagne and love. However, after somehow convincing him, even in my drunkenness that I wouldn't allow us to… you know… ,we settled for a good make-out session instead… in which he had somehow lost his waist jacket, cloak, mask, wig, shoes and shirt. I however, lost nothing. And at that point, I couldn't tell if I was relieved, or disappointed.

I woke up, and saw the red marks that I and his vacuum gave him. He was peering into my eyes with smoldering passion that I had to pretend to yawn to look away.

"Oh, Erik, dear heart?"

"Yes, love?"

"Why were you making your vacuum suck on your neck and why did it have my name on it?"

"…"

**A/N: So there you have it, folks! ;) Again, I'm sorry that I'm late, but things have been totally whack lately. Please review, and stay tuned! ;)**

**~~~~WHAT IS THE FUNNIEST FANFIC YOU HAVE EVER READ? ~~~~~ See ya next time!**

**-Your obedient servant,**

**TNP**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Hey guys! I'm so happy you guys are enjoying the story thus far. And in return for your kindness, I give you a technically early chapter six! There is a time skip in this one, so if you think it doesn't make sense, then, probably why, Sorry, but I got to get the story moving along here. Read, Enjoy, review, please! ;D**

* * *

_**Erik's POV:**_

_A Few Years In the Future…_

I could die the happiest man on this Earth with no regrets.

Seriously, I have all I've ever asked for since my lonely childhood. I have a loving wife (Christine MULHIEM), friends, a place above ground, a respectable position in society, I'm in my favorite place, (Glasgow, Scotland; which is ironic because this was my birth place… Peculiar, that, isn't it?), and a baby on the way. I'm just nervous because, well, there is a list of things… 1. I am horrified that the baby might inherit my face, 2. He might inherit my insatiable control-freak temper, and 3. Tonight is the grand opening of my theme park, Phantasma.

As you could guess, I am horrible with people, I am almost terrified of what they would do if they find out that I was the Opera Ghost, (Operative word: WAS!) or if I screw up the introduction ceremony. I feel like a schoolboy cramming for a report! I was so busy helping Christine around the house, that I had practically NO time to write my speech, which is 'due' tonight! And Christine has been getting sick basically on a hormonal clock. At the drop of a pin, she had already sprinted to the bathroom and stayed in there retching for an average of 15 minutes with me helping her through with my tenor voice, and supposedly magical hands rubbing her strained back.

I felt so bad for her. And I know that I had done this to her, for I remember every steamy detail. A black night beneath Sweden, we were on our honeymoon. She insisted that we take an entire European tour. But, we unfortunately had to cut it short when we were headed to Poland, for she had just realized the signs of pregnancy.

But no, she said, I want to see where you were born. I didn't want to upset her in her state, so I had no other choice but to oblige. So, I took her to Scotland. I showed her all around my home town, I introduced her to the townsfolk, who knew exactly who I was, but were forced by my devil's-eye to welcome at least my wife. I took her to the church where I used to sneak out of the house and play the organ. In fact, this is where I learned to play my first and forever-beloved instrument. Which meant that the piano came easy. Then I moved on to wind instruments, for in Persia, the Shiz-head Shah enjoyed my snake-charmer act, which led me to the flute, bassoon, oboe, clarinet, and on.

Violin, guitar, bass, bassinette, and even the Ukulele came to me in my later years under the opera house. Of course, I told her about my times in the past, which she wasn't at all happy about, just because every person I met had tormented me mentally, physically, emotionally, or all three. She understood that I was being forced against my will in Persia, Italy was because I believed in my so-called home away from-home with Giovanni and his insufferable snob of a daughter, who couldn't take in the fact that life isn't all sunshine, lollipops and rainbows, no matter what Lesley Gore has to say about it.

So, I had the history chat with her, and for about an hour after that, she was sobbing into my jacket about how bad she felt and how much she hated Gypsies and Persia, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera. I know I've always had a feeling of resentment towards pity, but it felt pretty okay to have someone who really, truly believed in me and worried about my welfare. Especially after you've written a really 'dirty' opera for them, lusted for them in every dream you could muster, and had the patience to stand behind their mirror for almost seven years because in your mind they were totally worth it.

And she was. I was treated like gold, and I treated her as such since I first heard her sobbing on the stage after curfew, almost years ago. I believe I was about 13 when that happened.

I also eventually revealed my approximate age to her, (considering that mother didn't give a crap whether I knew my age or not.), which is now about 35. She is now 32. We've been married almost two years.

She laughed at this, which I for some reason took to offense. She had the decency to elaborate, however, which on my part, was quite appreciated…

"YOU SAID YOU WERE OLD!"

She continued laughing her little dancer's fanny off, while I was pondering how she even remembered that far back to remember the specific words I had said the first night she saw me as a human. I eventually gave up, for it was futile to even try to think about how she must've felt to have latched on to ever syllable I uttered, and eventually, joined in with her abundant spurts of laughter.

So, anyways, back to the present, she accepted me. And now, she, in her extremely hormonal state, is nagging me to get to the park so then I'm not late. With 4 hours to spare.

"Darling, it starts at 7. It's only 3:30..."

I held her close, or as close as he swelled stomach would allow, and planted a 'married for 20 years' type of kiss on her glowing, and rather sticky forehead.

"Oh... Sorry honey... Would you mind, uh..."

"Ice cream with pickles and mayo, or sausage with bell peppers, broccoli and melted cheese, this time angel?"

"Uh, actually, I was thinking chocolate wipped-cream, and carrots..."

"Umm... Okay. I'll go fix it for you..."

Really, I don't understand pregnant women's tastes in food, or tastes for anything in general. Truly, I was baffled at the fact that she, and the baby could both stomach these... Abominations. It was like most of the food she requested looked like Mexico hurled on france, and got stuck between America and Canada. Bell peppers on a sausage and broccoli? WITH CHEESE, OF ALL THINGS? I almost feel bad for her, except, she was due in about a week or two, or so we carefully calculated. THANK GOD.

So, there I was, in the kitchen, making her conglomeration of despicably stomach-deteriorating foods, when all of a sudden, Christine throws a very heavy paper at me.

"Hey, what was that for?" I demand, rubbing the sore spot under my wig.

"Sorry, dear, I just couldn't get up well enough to hand it to you. Sorry, again... But really, you might want to read it, it's quite shocking..."

"Okay, as soon as I fix your little... Whatever this is..."

"NO! NOW!"

Pissed off chicks in pregnancy: EVERY MAN'S WORST NIGHTMARE.

"Okay, I'm sorry dearest, I'll read it now then."

"Thankyou, love." She said in a cutesy voice.

OI VE!

Really? This whack-job again?

I looked upon the headline of today's paper, and my jaw drops to the floor when I see THIS:

'GAY VICOMTE FLEES FRANCE IN SHAME'

I had no idea he was ACTUALLY gay! I thought him girly and foppish, but GAY?

Ugh.

"I know right? I almost forgot about that predicament." Christine calls in from the living room.

"You never told me he was-"

"You never asked, dearie, now where's my snack!"

My last smidgen of sanity was slowly slipping away with every outburst she made. However, the only string of anything that is hanging on to that last bit, is telling myself that in under a month, she'll be back to normal, and we'll have a family.

I took my angel's eatery of death to where she sat on the armchair, gently caressing her swollen tum, whispering kind, little greetings and nonsense to our baby.

Again, I was mortified to know or even THINK that there was a chance of the child being born like me, but 'Chrissie' (That's what I call her when she gets mad), said that if I worry about it again, she'd take a switch to my rump. Like that didn't happen enough. Hehehe...

"Here you are, sweetness. Enjoy..."

I played waiter for about 2 more hours before I decided to practice my speech a little more before I had to get there early to set up.

"What you are about to see..."

*DING DOOOONG*

Blasted door bell. I grabbed my paper, ready to look passive and busy to the obvious merchant waiting at my door, when I find that the paper had FINALLY recognized my absence. I thought about how they'd react if I dropped in for a quick visit... 'Why so silent, good monsiers? Did you think that I had left you for good?...'

I swing the door open gracelessly.

"What do you want?"

I didn't even look up from the paper to show I cared, when I felt little woman hands yanking me out of the house by the lapels on my jacket. Evidently, they havn't used any weights in the past few DECADES, and they needed to improve their grip to be able to pull this bull of a man out of his house.

I was, however, annoyed nonetheless.

"Hey, what'er you-"

OH. NO.

"YOU AGAIN?! HOW DID YOU EVEN GET HERE?! GET OUT OF MY SIGHT! I'M MARRIED TO HER NOW, SO-"

Wait, forgot he was gay.

"I don't want her! Just, let me come in please?"

"WHY. SHOULD. I. You treated my wife like crap, and we took care of you. Member? You woke up with your hair in a rats nest, your pants looking like a hookah shop puked on you, and you woke up in a tissy! That was supposed to be it! You're done! Me, Christine and Meg had our fun, if that's what you were asking! NOW LEAVE!"

"Y-... Y-you d-d-did that"

"WHAT DID YOU EXPECT?! You treated the love of my life like a news-magnet, and went into a hissy-fit when you got some ink back in your face!"

He was near to tears. Really? This guys needs to suck it up.

"Why do you want to get into my house anyways?"

"I... Wanted t-to... Apologize?"

Yeah right.

"For? Narrow it down for me, Changy."

"F-for treating like Chridtine like my pawn, and falsely approaching the entire ballet, and-"

"That's enough. It sickens me that you can even utter your deeds freely like that."

"It does?"

"Nooooo, I just said that because I felt like geting up in your face. YES, IT SICKENS ME!"

Here comes... stage one of sobbing: fat lip.

"No, you can't come in my house. My wife is pregnant and probably drowning herslef in vomit, so if you'll excuse me-"

And I slammed the door in his prettty-little-princess face.

"Honey? You okay, Christine?"

"Yes, I'm fine, dearest. Who was that at the door?"

"Oh, nobody."

I could sense her stink-eye from all the way over here.

"Who, was it, ERIK?"

"You really wanna know?"

"No duh..."

Fuh-REAKY...

"It was Raoul de Changy. He wanted in, and I left him outside."

"Oh, grrrreat. what's he doing here?"

"He says he wanted to 'apologize'." I said cynically.

"*Pffffffffft*, like I'm gonna believe that."

"That's what I told him."

"Oh, darling, you know me so well..."

"I know I do, ange, I know..."

*DING DOOOONG*

I stomp over to the front door, and swing it almost hard enough that it surpassed its hinges and flew through the opposite side of the wall.

"WHAT, RAOUL?! THIS ISN'T EVEN FUNNY ANYMORE! GO HOME!"

"Ooooooh, you're a tough guy..."

He started biting his lip like he was a little flirting school-girl.

Gay. Right.

"OOOOOH NO. NO WAY, DE CHANGY!" I spat.

He went to feel my forearm, and I all but knocked him out of his little Superman socks.

"Y-you don't... Like me?"

He started sobbing right there on my front porch. People were already walking by to get to the introduction og the park. I need a distraction, and I need it so then this balooga-head doesn't get me into trouble with the press.

I knealt down and hissed into his ear,

"I have a younger brother who is just as talented as I am and much better looking, and I am sure he will like you for he shares your... Beliefs in love. I know not where he is, but I'm sure you can find him with your connections. Now leave me and my wife alone, or I will Punjab you so hard that you'll not even have a chance to gasp, are we clear comrade?"

He seemed to have brightened up a little, and got to his feet. He nodded and left in his disguised carriage.

THANK GOD...

No, I don't actually have a brother, but I needed to get him out of my hair. OH CRAP!

"Honeeeeeeyy! Sorry, sweetness, I gotta go,. I'll see you in a few hours, love you."

One last thing...

"Maria?!"

"Yes, sir?"

Our little maid woman pranced down the stairs, with a concerened look gracing her old, wrinkled face.

"It's time for me to go, please keep and especially close eye on her for me while I'm gone. Sorry for the short notice, but, duty calls." I rattled off while hurriedly tyinng my black bow tie.

"Of course, sir."

"Thank you."

I grabbed my stuff and sprinted for the door. Thankfully, there was a cab nearing the house, so I called it over and hastily ordered him onward to Phantasma.

...

I finally got to the park, and was just in time to rehearse one last run of it.

I was thankful that I wasn't the only one speaking in this. Dr. Gangle, Miss Fleck and Mister Squelch were also taking a huge part in this intro to my dark world of illusion.

Dr. Gangle is my master of ceremonies, Miss Fleck; My arialistic extraordinaire, and Mister Squelch was like another co-worker that applied for the job, however he is,"The World's Strongest Man".

I had rehearsed my violin solo, my speech, and the magic show I'd be displying in my head, but still, I was mortified.

Oh no, time to go on. Now I get why Christine was so scared when she was auditioning for her first role. The Phantom of the Opera has stagefright. THE BLOODY FREAKING PHANTOM OF THE OPERA FOR GOD'S SAKES!

Mr's Squelch and Gangle and Miss Fleck were now on the stage.

In about 10 minutes I'd be due to pop out from under the stage and play my solo. Then, I had the 20 minute speech, tagged off by a magic show. Sounds easier said than done, but, if Christine can pull off Margurite, I can talk for a little while.

I only hope all goes well.

Here goes...

* * *

**A/N: Sorry it was really short, but, there you have it! I'm scared that this may be the chapter for the week, but I will see what I can get done for you guys. **

**~~~~~WHAT WERE YOU-GUYS' THOUGHTS ON LND?~~~~**

**Please review, I will see you all next time. ;D**

**-Your obedient servant, **

**TNP**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Hello, my dearest readers. I am glad you all enjoyed the previous chapters, and I sincerely hope that this one will gain the same reaction. In other words, enjoy, and please don't forget to review! Oh, and I did this one in Erik's POV, just because I don't really know how to write a pregnant woman's dialogue very well, so I apologize if you were looking forward to Christine's POV, but, I believe next chapter will be in her POV. Later! :D**

_**Erik's POV:**_

"What you are about to see, ladies and gentlemen, is the most bafflingly mysterious encounter you shall ever behold. All I ask of you is to brace. Brace yourselves for the ride of your life."

I was under the stage at this point. I was starting to feel a strange thrill, not a jarring fear like when I use to have to perform for crowds at that dreaded Gypsy camp. I could look at the audience through the base of the stage, in which I had made from the same material as my angel's mirror.

I could see them all whispering in awe and gasping from the small trick. If they're shocked by that, they had better latch onto their seats with all their might. Even the Persian crowds weren't this easily excited.

I had thrown my voice around the auditorium and made it bounce off their noses as if I was looking them square in the face. I made it swoop around to the boxes in the wings, to the back seats as a ghost would flit around a grave. Pun not intended.

I had used all these tricks in the Persian parties I had used to perform in for the shah. Yes, I hated him, and I think that in spite of how much he praised me, he hated me back. His mother did for sure, even though she did have this sick fantasized romance between me and her. EEW…

I wanted to be loved. Not be a man-whore.

I had blown smoke and shadows across the stage that would easily swallow up the audience whole had I not tamed my beasts of darkness with my tenor-baritone voice. I could easily see that they were all transfixed on the shadowy serpent I sent slithering up the middle aisle. I easily made it hiss and snap at the crowd, AND. THEY. FREAKED.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I give you no more than a mere prank. If you can't stay in your seats for _this_, I am afraid you won't stay for the real beauty underneath these beasts of darkness…"

I then charmed my gargantuan viper into a mess of knots, which was then put into the shape of a giant bird of prey.

Screeching and squawking at their hypnotized faces, I threw my voice across the room again. Only this time to a large band of adolescents

"Why so silent, good messieurs?"

I sent my hawk swooping up to their box left of the stage, all shaking in their petty designer, rich-kid boots.

I threw my voice continuously to the awed crowd, while I escaped to the adolescents' booth. All in good time, too.

I placed my ice-cold hands on two of the boy's shoulders, scaring them half to death.

"Scared, boys? Please, stay and enjoy our fun, for I have only just begun. And whilst you say you're not afraid, I'm scared to say you're this dark bird's prey!"

I used my stealth to slither away whilst the spot light had moved from my post in the box. I made my merry way down to the stage.

Whence I took my newest position center-stage, I witnessed my giant eagle 'swallow' the group whole.

There were a few screams, and I believe we had lost about half of the oxygen in the room, for everyone seemed to gasp all at once.

I feared that they were so scared, that they would all start a riot. Therefore, I felt the urge to calm them with a little humor of mine…

I controlled the great fowl and with a wag of my finger, it paused mid-flight, and burped and coughed and hacked for a few seconds. Then, out from the fog appeared the seven 'souls' that my great bird had stolen. They looked like souls too. Little phantom swung around in the mist, popping into the audience's faces, and scaring them all out of their wits.

I called them down to the lightened stage and they obediently came to my call.

I sat with my legs hanging over the edge of the stage, propped up on my palms, looking to either side of me at the shadows of the silent spirits beside me.

"Yes, I'm sure they were good kids, but my bird told me that they had always wanted to fly…"

I 'grabbed' the hands of each ghost and compacted them all down in my hands. I then turned around with my phantom-filled fingers, and let them go behind my back.

"Butterflies. They should be happy now…"

The shadows flitted and flipped around in the faces of the audience, and landed on the noses of children who tried to catch them, but were disappointed by the insects' tease in flying away just in the knick-of-time.

Clearly I had soothed them somewhat. M

My giant fowl, yet again, tried to gulp down all of my little bugs, but, I called to my beast, and he obeyed politely.

"My dear boy, you've scared our audience half to death! You trickster, you, I think you need a time-out…"

I then made my bird dive-bomb behind me and burst into flame. The embers turned to snow, and yet again, I wooed the minds of hundreds with my continuous tricks.

Boys and girls alike were all stunned by my performance of dark magic. But, my time was running short; therefore I had to end the show. With mystery as always…

"Now, when I snap my fingers, you will awaken from this strange dream… 1… 2…. 3!"

I snapped my fingers and took my original stance behind the podium with a jovial smile plastered on my face.

"What you are about to see, ladies and gentlemen, is the most bafflingly mysterious encounter you will ever behold. All I ask of you it to brace. Brace yourself for the ride of your lives… I give you, PHANTASMA!"

Then the stage erupted with a billowy cloud of smoke. And before they left, I disappeared from the stage, and signaled the end of the ceremony with the cry of my naughty, naughty hawk.

I was very exhausted, yet exhilarated at the same time when I exited through the back of the stage.

The sun had just set, so the lights of my utopia shone like Christmas upon the glistening shores of Coney. I escaped to the roof of the tallest building in my little wonderland, and just sat with my arms resting on my leg, the other foot swinging teasingly over the park. I blended in perfectly amongst the endless show-tents and shadows, so getting home was a piece of cake.

Mmmmm… Caaaa-aaaake…

I bet Christine would like some cake…

With fish, ground pickles and beans….

EEW…

When I was about a block away from my screeching wife, I came across a little black cat with miss-matched eyes, a flicky tail, and strange rust-colored paws. Three that is….

I couldn't just leave him there; he wouldn't make it out there much longer with that nasty, old Jenkins' dog around, especially with only three full legs.

I called it over with a flick of my hand, and a fish stick.

Why did I have a fish stick? Well, on my way home, I stopped by a newfangled place called a fast-food restaurant. It was good enough, but I had a feeling that over the next decades, the food will grow gradually worse and worse.

Anyways, I was hungry, and I decided that instead of pretending to enjoy my wife's scarce amount of good taste, I'd be like all the 'cool cats', and join in on the cheap grease chunks.

Evidently, I got fish-sticks.

I was just starting to dig in when -surprise, surprise! - I run into the same band of kids from the show earlier.

I immediately go into apology-mode for fear of returning home with either a black eye, or blood on my hands. That and the more customers left in the park, the merrier.

"Hey, guys, I'm sorry about the show today, I just wanted to show off a little bit of the dark magic in the show, I didn't mean to put you on the spot."

They all turned red, hunched over, and started laughing full-on.

"DUDE! ARE YOU KIDDING?! THAT WAS THE BEST THING SINCE ATOMIC WEDGIES!"

They all started ad-libbing their own opinion on the show, which were all (thank god) positive.

They were all starting to calm down and nibble at their multi-colored cotton-candy and adjusting their striped Phantasma top-hats.

Hey, I just run the shows and performances. I don't make the merchandise. I seriously have to have a very long talk with who-ever came up with striped top-hats for souvenirs. What's next, Mouse-ears?

So we carried on a light conversation and I hastily said my goodbyes. Of course, they were having fun, so they didn't want me to go. I explained my reason, (My impregnated wife), and they immediately agreed. Apparently the eldest cult-member had a kid just a few weeks ago. The man's name was Richard, as for his wife; Jessica, and their new baby girl is named Eva. (Short for Evalyn.)

I wished him and his young family well, and said my final goodbyes for the night. I took my food to-go.

And so that is how I got this random fish-stick.

Anyways, I got it close enough to snatch it up. It fought just a little bit, until it realized I meant no harm. So basically, the second the fish-stick hit his tongue, he loved me.

I discovered that it was in fact a 'he', and decided to name him Charlie.

I finally got home, newly-deemed Charlie in the crook of my arm, and a screaming wife in the house.

I liked it until the screaming wife.

Screaming wife. Wonderful.

What could she be up there screeching on about now?

As I was stuffing one of my old pillowcases full of some of my ruined socks, I yelled up to her to see what was the matter.

"Honey? I'm hooo-oooome, what's wrong dearest?"

She screams again. Although this time, it doesn't sound like her normal rant. It sounds like she's in pain.

I lock the door and bounce the cat into the make-shift bed, and sprinted up the stairs.

I could feel my heart thudding in my ears, twice the pace of the stomping of my feet up the carpeted stairs.

I find my wife panting, soaking wet, panting, and squeezing the life out of our maid's hand.

Oh god…

THE BABY'S COMING…

"DEAREST! GOOD LORD!"

I went rushing to Christine's bed-side, and let her squeeze my hand.

I'm trying my best to support her and help her and do whatever I can to make myself useful, but there's nothing for it. All I did was get more and more rags and water.

"JESUS, MARIA, YOU DIDN'T THINK TO SEND FOR A DOCTOR OR _SOMETHING_?!"

"Sir, I was mid-wife for three generations of the hardest births in Europe. I can handle this."

"And you're calm about all of this?!"

"ERIK, SHUT UP AND GIVE ME YOUR HAND!"

O….kay…?

And so about an hour more of screaming, huffing, puffing, squealing, sweating, bleeding, and squeezing ensued.

I didn't say a word; I just sat on my haunches, with this dumb-struck horrified look on my face, staring at my brave little wife.

She was that frail little dancer girl from a few years ago, was she not?

No, she wasn't. She was a grown-up, strong, brave, bold, courageous woman that as my wife.

And dang was I proud.

All the sudden she turned into a warrior lioness that could endure everything and anything the world threw at her.

WOW…

After one final lasting screech, we heard a cry, and she automatically relaxed a weary smile on her sticky face.

I kissed her all over and praised her for her bravery and strength through all that pain and suffering.

She said she never could have done it without me and kissed my masked cheek.

I'm pretty sure that both our faces lit up at the exact same time, for our first-born was now in my brave little wife's arms.

He was beautiful.

I saw that he had my strange eyes, and was bound to have my thick, angular face structure when he got to be a young man, but he had his mother's brown, curly hair, and bright pink lips.

He was, however, of my stature. He was most likely going to be a bean-pole, yet strong as an ox.

Almost simultaneously, Christine and I blurted out the name of our new child.

"Gustave."

"I will send for the priest. Congratulations, you two."

She flashed a kind smile, curtseyed politely and hurried off to the nearest chapel.

Well, now it's time for me to brave it out.

Christine just gave birth for Pete's sake, now _I_ have to take on a priest.

*Hisssssss*…

_30 minutes later…_

"I'M BA-ACK!"

Oh god, I'm gonna die, I swear I'm gonna die…

I heard mumbling until they finally got to the door.

In came Maria and a squat little bearded man named Father Michel. He wore red garments, carried a bible, a birth certificate, and a black rosary.

He took the name, did his business and thankfully left me untouched, and un-humiliated.

No small-talk, just a baptism, a certificate, and he was out the door.

Smart man.

So for the remaining hours until midnight, we just sat there, holding our brand-new baby.

Baby Gustave.

Such a wonderful child.

**A/N: So there you have it. Sorry it's so small, but I was really under the gun and with four major tests tomorrow, I gotta get some shut-eye, but I have to juggle this in the balance, so I hope this is enough to tide you over for a week. ;) PLEASE REVIEW! :D**


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